City Of Endless Blood
by wynnie the pooh
Summary: 'The lady dare not lift her veil, for fear it be dispelled.' Sequel to CoFA. Jace is having nightmares and hearing voices and Magnus and Alec are drawing apart, but desperately searching for the same thing. Spoilers for CoFA
1. Part One: Fear Be Dispelled

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments, any of its characters, but I do own half of this plot, and Alagorn Black owns the other half :)**

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><p><strong>CITY OF ENDLESS BLOOD<strong>

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><p><strong>PART ONE: Fear Be Dispelled<strong>

_A charm invests a face  
><em>_Imperfectly beheld  
><em>_The lady dare not lift her veil  
><em>_For fear it be dispelled_

-Emily Dickinson, _A Charm Invests A Face_

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><p><strong>Hello to all you lovely Cassie Clare fans out there who have clicked on this story. You're probably wondering why this looks so small and pitiful, but this is just the title page! I hope it tickles your fancy, and I will warn in this chapter here (as in the summary) that this story is set after City of Fallen Angels and is spoiler filled! So I would advise against reading this if you haven't read that, but feel free if you want to! I won't stop you! :D And soon, the first actual chapter will be available to be read. Hope to see you all around soon!<strong>

**xx**

**Wynnie and Alagorn**


	2. 1: Liar

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments or any of the characters, only the plot. Of which I own half, and the other half goes to Alagorn Black.**

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><p><strong>1 - Liar<strong>

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><p>The London city street was dark and uninviting, the streetlights dim. Few cars drove past, and the silence weighed down upon the two figures that walked side by side in the moonlight.<p>

The older of the two bit his lip, raising a red welt. 'I'm not ready.'

'Of course you're not,' the girl - his companion - answered, and her hand slipped into his, holding it tight. 'No one who has lived as long as you have would be prepared for this.'

'What if it doesn't work?' he asked her, his voice breaking.

'He will love you no matter what. Be assured of that, brother.' And she gave his hand one final squeeze before releasing it, stepping away into the night. He stood still as she left, watching the final swish of her white velvet dress as she turned the corner.

Breathing in the cold air, he ran a thumb across his lip, deep in thought. With a final glance at the street corner, he raised a hand, and the brightness of the lights returned. Pedestrians filed onto the streets, unaware that their paths had been diverted.

And Magnus Bane only watched as normalcy returned, as it would not return to him.

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><p>The room was coated with blood and ichor, no surface left uncovered. Each step was like squelching through mud; it clung to shoes and clothes, sheening black in the moonlight.<p>

But to the boy that crossed the floor, it was like heaven. The sight - oh! What a sight! The smell of death and decay permeated the room, overpowering all others. The blood of his enemies stained his boots, the black ink of ichor the only blemish, the last remnant of the mother he had lost. A gnawing pang formed in the base of his stomach, but he pushed it aside. He was alive, and it was wonderful, and nothing else mattered.

The boy smiled. It was perfect.

'Thank you, little brother,' he said, his thin lip curling. 'Thank you.'

Stooping, he picked up the battered stele that rested on the floor, holding it loosely in his hand. It was his sister's stele, and now it was his, and he was going to use it. She would be sorry she ever left it behind.

And with a light touch, he drew a rune on the wall, one that would secure him a quick way out of the hive of Shadowhunter's that was New York City. He closed his eyes, seeing the tall buildings of London rise up above him, and he stepped through the Portal, his face alive with excitement. He didn't look back.

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><p>The front door of Simon's mom's walk-up was locked when he arrived. His mom had changed the locks. He had expected it, but it was a little different to actually find yourself outside your own home and have it inexorably closed to you. The corridor was empty, no one was around to see him if he kicked down the door, but he had a feeling that his mom wouldn't appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night by her monster of a son barging through the door.<p>

He glanced to his left, to the generic print that held the spare key. He leaned closer to it, lifting it gently away from the wall and removing the key. He breathed a sigh of relief that it was even sitting there and slipped it into the lock in one smooth motion. Before he became a vampire, completing that smooth motion would have been impossible. He would have shoved the key repeatedly into the lock to connect with the mechanism, and shake it around a bit to turn it. Now, it spun like it was newly greased.

He opened the door slowly, careful to avoid any creaking and stepped into the hall, shifting the weight of his bag on his shoulder unnecessarily. He closed the door silently, and stepped into the living room, placing his bag in the doorway.

His mother was like he had left her, asleep on the couch. Her eyes were darting in their lids and her lips were moving, forming speechless words. He took a step towards her, laying a cool hand on her blazing forehead, but she didn't wake up. She was deep in a troubled sleep, but Simon could not free her.

Instead, he lay down beside her, wrapping her arm around him like she had when Simon was little. He rested his head on her shoulder and listened to her heartbeat, to the blood pumping through her veins.

'Simon?' The voice was barely a whisper, and his mother's lips had hardly moved. She was still asleep.

'Yes, mom?'

'Tell me it's not true. Please, tell me it's not true.'

'It's true, mom.' How was he supposed to make her understand? He was a vampire: he drank blood, but he was still her son, he was still Simon Lewis, who only ate a lot less.

_This isn't the kind of thing you can tell your mother, _he thought to himself, but she tightened his grip on him, and he could feel his resolve strengthening with it. He had to tell her, he just had to. Who cared if she prayed at him, desperate to remove the demon from her son. It wasn't going anywhere, and neither was he this time.

Before he could convince himself otherwise, he shook her softly, just enough to wake her. 'Mom. Mom.'

Elaine Lewis stirred, her eyes fluttering open. 'Simon!' His name was spoken in a breathy whisper, and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. 'You're back!' she said, kissing the top of his head. 'I've missed you.'

He bit his lip, pulling away. 'Mom, I need to talk to you.'

'What about, Simon?' Her eyes, were light, as if she had woken from a horrible nightmare and was relieved to find herself back in her familiar world. But she wasn't back. She was still in her nightmare.

'I don't know how to say this, mom, but you need to understand.' Elaine's eyes filled with confusion, and he let her sit up, but he didn't let go of her. He was too scared she would try to run away. Simon took a deep breath, steeling himself.

'I love you, mom. But I _am_ a vampire, and you need to understand that.'

And even though he had been expecting it, it still cut him to the core when she backed away, separating herself from him. 'No. No. No, no, no.' She stood up quickly, moving into the corner of the room, and he didn't stand up to follow her. She needed her space, he knew.

'Can you just listen to me, mum? Let me tell you my story?'

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><p>Jace stood against the brick wall, hiding from himself the carnage that he had caused. <em>He <em>had given Sebastian the blood to rise again. _He _had destroyed Lilith, only to fulfill her wishes anyway. It was in this room that Clary had sliced the rune on his chest, severing his connection to the greater demon. And it was here, on this balcony, that it had sealed itself, rejoining him with Sebastian.

But now the connection had disappeared. There was no voice in his head telling him what to do, only an ominous feeling that whatever Sebastian aimed to do was going to come to pass, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. And the rune on his chest was still glowing - dull but whole.

Glancing down, he looked at it. The red of the rune - so different to the black runes made by a stele - was starting to fade, so much so that it was impossible to read, almost impossible to see if you didn't know it was there.

'Jace!' It was Clary and she was running towards him, almost every full grown Shadowhunter in New York behind her. 'I thought you said you were watching Sebastian?'

And suddenly, like clockwork, the voice was back.

_Tell her you can't remember anything. You blacked out, and when you came to, the room was empty._

_No, _Jace argued, but Sebastian's voice was insistent. It pressed against his head like a sudden migraine.

_Do it._

'I did and I was. But he's gone. And all that's left of him is a rather painful headache I wish I could share with you.' _I wish I could tell you._

Clary's green eyes were dark with suspicion, and the scowl on her face was fierce. 'Why didn't you come and tell us?'

'I looked. No body.. There was nothing anybody could have done.'

Maryse Lightwood stepped forward, Clary's mother beside her. 'If we were aware earlier, it would be worth searching the city for him. The effort would be worthless now.'

She was annoyed with him, unhappy, and if ever there was a moment when he felt like his father, this was it. _To love is to destroy, and to be loved is to be the one to be destroyed. _It felt like a gaping hole in his chest that no _iratze _could heal and no amount of cement could fill up. He couldn't free himself from Sebastian: Clary had proven there was no way to destroy the rune. Perhaps the only way to destroy the connection way to destroy himself.

_Don't think that like, little brother. You have to stay. You are my lifeline._

'What's wrong, Jace?' Clary asked him, stepping closer. Her hand touched his chest, over the place where the rune had been. The skin had a scar running the length of the cut Clary had made, and Jace was glad that he had thought to place an _iratze _beneath the scar.

'Nothing.'

'It's not nothing.' The look in her eyes had softened, and she ran a hand along the line of his scar, bringing it to rest against the muscles of his stomach.

_Lie._

'Oh, yeah, in the last half an hour, I've made dust of the mother-of-all-demons, saved myself from the control of said demon, been smashed over the head by something, and let my demon opposite escape. My life is just fabulous.'

'Don't get snippy with me,' Clary said, but a smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth. 'Just lighten up okay?'

Jace shrugged his shoulders half-heartedly, and pulled her into a one armed hug. 'Aren't I always light? I'm lighter than a lightbulb.'

'Even lighter than a floodlight.'

But even though Jace smiled and lifted her chin to kiss her gently, he could feel the slight bitter sting in her touch, a pulling away that he hadn't felt since Valentine declared them brother and sister. Lillith had succeeded in controlling him, and even though Clary was completely unaware of Sebastian's voice in his head, she was wary of him.

'Jace, Clary,' Maryse called out to them from inside the room. Jace gripped Clary's hand and led her towards Alec and Isabelle's mother.

'Yes?'

'We can't find your stele, Clary.'

Jace turned to her, eyebrows raised. 'You lost your stele?'

'I don't know where it's gone. I haven't seen it since the party.' Worry furrowed her eyebrows, but Jace squeezed her side in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

'We can always get you a knew one. You seem to have a habit of leaving them around, don't you, midget?'

She rolled her eyes at him, but her features didn't relax. If anything, they grew tighter, and she bit her lip absently.

'Go downstairs,' Maryse said. 'You don't need to stay here.'

Jace nodded, and pulled Clary along after him, down the stairs. Her grip was loose in his, but she didn't lag too far behind. Every few steps he turned his head to watch her. What was she thinking? Could she tell? Her eyes were dark and thoughtful, and she had that faraway look she got when she was thinking.

'Jace!' Isabelle's voice was barely less than a screech as she jumped up from her spot against the wall, wrapping her electrum whip quickly around her arm as she made her way towards them. Glancing around the room, Jace noticed that the room was practically empty. Magnus and Alec were nowhere to be seen, Simon seemed to have left, and Maia and Jordan were in the corner, talking animatedly to each other and paying no attention to either Clary or Jace. Only Isabelle had anything to say.

'Jace, you look like you've been through a tornado.' She was running her hands along the fragments of his shirt, trying to draw them together before giving up and attempting to flatten his hair instead.

'Yeah, apparently I hadn't had my fair share of natural disasters before today. I think a flood would round things off nicely.'

He shot Isabelle a grin he wasn't sure he felt, and she stepped away, fiddling with her whip again.

'Why are you still here, Iz?' Jace asked her.

'Oh, we're supposed to wait for mom to come down and take us back to the Institute.'

Jace raised an eyebrow.

'Magnus and Alec seem to have left already,' Clary pointed out, glancing around the room.

'Oh, yeah, well they left as soon as mom went upstairs with everyone else. They said they were going out for dinner, but I think they were just finding somewhere more private to make out. Good thing, too, because I totally don't need to see that.' Her words were quickly uttered, like she was nervous, and Clary shot her a glance.

'What's wrong, Izzy?'

The taller girl shook her head and shrugged. 'Oh, nothing. It's just-'

'What?'

Isabelle bit her lip anxiously. 'It's just, Simon went to see his mom, and he told me he'd call when he knew-'

'Iz.' Clary placed both her hands on Isabelle's shoulders, shaking her slightly. 'When do you worry so much about a boy? Simon'll be fine. His mom will understand. It's about time he told her anyway.' She shot her friend a wide smile, and Isabelle nodded, holding her head high.

'You're right, Clary. When do I ever worry about a guy? Jace is proof that all they're good for is a sarcastic comment.'

'Hey!' Jace argued. 'If it wasn't for my witty banter, you would all get bored of life. I am the blueberry to the pie, the mango to the smoothie, the sugar to the-'

'Okay, we get the picture, Jace,' Izzy said, covering his mouth with her hand. 'I'm going now. Who cares about waiting around for mom? Clearly not Alec. I'm heading back on my own.'

'I'll take Clary home and then I'll meet you there.'

Clary's scowl was obvious. 'I can get myself home, thank you very much.'

Jace raised his eyebrows. 'Do you seriously think I'm going to let you out of my sight on the streets of New York? Who knows what's out there.'

'Oh,' she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 'All the vampires and werewolves that roam the streets, you mean?'

'Yes,' he said, sparing a grin. 'And the warlocks, and faeries. They're rather nasty if you get on their wrong side.'

Clary's face split into a grin, but Jace could tell it was only skin deep. 'Fine,' she said. 'You can walk me home. But don't expect me to be happy about it.'

Jace only shot Izzy a grin and grabbed Clary's hand, leading her out of the abandoned building site. His smile may have been bright, and Clary was smiling, happy that they had won.

But Jace knew better. Maybe, they had defeated Lillith. But Sebastian was loose on the world, and Jace was his secret weapon.

The rune on Jace's chest burned, blood red, but Clary didn't notice. She only squeezed his hand tighter, leaning her head against his shoulder.

'I love you, you know that right?' she asked him, and his lips curled in a painful smile.

'More than you know.'

_That's right, little brother. Be the gentlemen. All the better for me._

The voice chilled Jace to the core.

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><p>'So let me get this straight,' Simon's mom said, blue eyes narrowing in suspicion. 'Clary is a Shadowhunter?'<p>

'Yes. Training to be one.'

'And she fights demons for a living?'

'And kills them.'

Elaine had given in and allowed Simon to tell his story, but her eyes had darted warily around the room, first landing on the small coffee table and tracing the grain of the hardwood, and then to the TV that was flickering on the other side of the room, sound on mute. Simon was surprised that she had taken in this much. She had shut herself down, preparing herself for the worst, and still, she seemed concerned about his mental health, but she had listened, and that - at least to Simon - was what mattered.

'And her boyfriend, Jace, is one of these too?'

'Yes. And his brother and sister, Alec and Isabelle.'

'And Alec's…' She paused, searching for the right word. 'Friend… is a warlock?'

'Yes. Magnus. He's the High Warlock of Brooklyn.'

'That sounds like a big title.'

'It is.'

Simon bit his lip. This was painful, this awkward tension between them, the pained sentences. All he wanted was to help his mother see the truth, understand what he was and accept him. All she wanted was to find a reason to get him admitted to a psych ward.

'And so you went to a party at this High Warlock of Manhattan's house and got turned into a rat?'

'Brooklyn, Mom. High Warlock of Brooklyn. But otherwise, yes.'

'And you were taken by a pack of vampires and when Clary came to rescue you, you bit one on the finger to escape?'

'Yes. And it did things to me. It made me long to go back there. I thought I was turning into a vampire, and I wanted more information.'

'But you weren't? A vampire, I mean?'

'No,' Simon said, his voice hard. 'I wasn't.'

'But you went back.'

'Yes.'

'Why did you go back, Simon?' It was the first time she had spoken his name since he had begun to tell her his story, and it eased the knot in his stomach slightly. Her voice was wistful, as if hoping if she shut her eyes tight enough, it wouldn't have happened, and it wouldn't be true, and her son would be standing before her, hungry for a bag of Oreos and not avoiding all food in favor of packets of animal blood.

'I went back,' Simon said slowly. 'Because of the venom in my veins. I'd tasted vampire blood and it does this to you. It makes you a slave to the vampires. And I didn't realise that by going back, I was setting myself up to be one of them. I thought I already was.'

Elaine bit her lip, and Simon watched as the blood rushed to the spot, bright pink. The pangs of hunger gnawed at his stomach like a tapeworm.

'And so you went there, and they turned you, this Raphael person.'

'Yes. He's my sire. I was going to die, and Clary begged him to turn me. I wouldn't be here if he didn't.'

Her eyes grew wide, apprehensive, but the quiver in her lip was fading, and Simon was almost certain that he had gotten through to her, that this would all end okay. He reached out a hand, laying it on his mothers arm, and she didn't pull away. It felt like a breakthrough; happiness flooded his veins like a flush of color, blood that hadn't flowed through his veins since that day in the Dumort.

'Simon,' his mother said softly, and suddenly her arms were around his neck, pulling him close to her, smothering him in a hug that, to Simon, felt like heaven. It didn't matter that he was a vampire, and in the recent past drank a girls blood and caused her to be turned into a vampire herself. He was a monster, but for that moment, he felt as if all he was was a little boy, in his mother's arms.

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><p>Luke's bookstore was abandoned when Clary and Jace arrived there. It had been expected of course; Luke and Jocelyn were still at the construction site with Maryse and the other Shadowhunters, searching the vicinity for Sebastian's body.<p>

But despite that fact, the house, to Clary, did not feel like home.

They entered through the bookstore, weaving through the boxes to the door that lead from the store into Luke's house. Jace stormed ahead of her, shoulders tensed. Clary walked slower, feet dragging on the carpet. Reaching the door, she stepped into the living room.

The lounge was positioned in front of the TV and by the time she entered the room, Jace was lying down on it, feet up against the coffee table. The remote was in his hand and he was surfing through the channels, not settling on anything. He didn't look at her, didn't say anything. His eyes were facing straight ahead, barely even taking in the TV, but desperately not looking at her.

Clary bit her lip, looking around herself. The kitchen was bare, all dishes removed and packed away. The bread was in the bread tin, the butter in the fridge. The pot of coffee that Jocelyn usually left steaming on the sink was missing. It was like the house had not been lived in.

Not speaking to Jace, she stepped through the living room and into the corridor, heading towards the bedroom she now occupied. The door was slightly ajar and she pushed it open with one hand, wrapping the other around herself to keep out the chill that was easing in through the open window.

Looking down at herself, she realised she was still in the gold dress she'd worn to her parents' engagement party. He hadn't mentioned it at all.

Clary walked across to her wardrobe, pulling it open and rummaging through her clothes. With a sigh she slipped off her flats and pulled the dress over her head, dragging on jeans and a loose hoodie. She grabbed a hair tie from her dresser, pulling her hair up into a loose bun and grabbed a pair of socks from her drawer, pulling them on before lacing her red Chucky Ts.

Her hands slipped into the pocket of her jumper, curling into fists as she stood up, using her shoulder to pull down the open window. Looking out of it, she could see the lights of Brooklyn spreading out around her, the street busy with late night traffic.

Clary loved her room. It was one of the only rooms in the house that looked out onto the street front, and from it, she could watch the pedestrians pass, the motorbikes as they sped between other vehicles. There was a coffeehouse on the corner, that was open twenty four hours, and it amused her to watch the people that entered or exited it and attempt to draw them in their natural environment.

But tonight, it all seemed blank to her. The coffeehouse looked deserted, the streetlights darker than usual. The pedestrians that had always seemed full of life were now just the average hooker, looking for her next pay.

Clary backed out of her room, pulling the door shut behind her. Jace was still, annoyingly, on the couch. He didn't look like he'd moved an inch since she'd left the room. His feet were still up on the coffee table, but he'd now settled on a channel, and was watching it, eyes glazed over.

'Jace,' she said, but he didn't turn. If anything, his figure turned to stone, freezing beneath her gaze. 'Jace,' she repeated, slightly louder this time. Still, no movement. With a groan, she stepped around the couch and in front of him, blocking his view of the TV and forcing him to look at her.

'What?' he asked, a hint of a sigh in his voice, as if he was resigned to replying to her.

'What's up with you, Jace?' Clary's lips were curled into a scowl as she stared at him, hands on her hips. 'You insist on bringing me home, only to sit in front of the television doing nothing. And you won't talk to me. What is up with you?'

He looked up at her then, properly, searching her face for something she wasn't sure she could give him. It was a look of hunger and lust, and at the moment, all she wanted to do was slap him until he cried.

But Jace never cried, did he? He didn't share emotions. He only bottled them up inside, not letting anyone see.

'You look angry,' he told her bluntly, innocence filling his voice.

'That's because I am.' Her tone was bitter; she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 'I'm annoyed with you, Jace. And I'm frustrated, because we always fight these battles - against Demons, against our own flesh and blood - and we think we've won, and then something happens and we realise we never will win. Because the demons aren't gone for good. There's always more, and there's always someone who wants more than they deserve. First there was Valentine and then there was Lilith, and now Sebastian's body is missing again, and you seem all uninterested.' She bit her lip, hard enough to make it bleed, and rubbed her hand quickly across her mouth to stifle the blood. 'The Jace I know wouldn't just sit here watching TV while there was danger around. He'd be preparing his weapons, or staking out the area, or-' Clary's voice broke, tears spilling down her face and taking the anger with them. 'Or kissing me and telling me I'd be safe with him around.'

Jace grabbed her hand, pulling her close and on to the couch beside him. She struggled, but his strong grip held her to his side, and he kissed the top of her head lightly. 'I wish I could say that,' he told her, his voice barely louder than a whisper. 'But it isn't true.'

He let her sob against his shoulder, but something about him was off, his words slightly too forced, too textbook perfect. Clary tried to ignore it, but something was niggling at her, and she couldn't figure out what it was. 'I love you, Jace,' she whispered for the second time that night.

But this time, there was no reply.

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><p>Shit.<p>

His hand slammed against the cement wall of Luke's bookstore, blood rushing to the site of the bruise. Jace didn't even wince. He only shook his hand slightly and continued walking.

_Oh, poor little Jace-y. Can't make his girlfriend happy. You'll never be able to make her happy, little brother. Not when I'm here._

Jace ran along the length of the street, his feet pounding against the pavement. It soothed him, at least a little, to have the familiar pace, the blood coursing through his veins. It didn't matter that demon blood was now coursing along with it, that he had a schizophrenic voice in his head: he was still alive, still human.

He'd left Clary as soon as she fell asleep against his arm. He had carried her gently to her bed, tucked her in and made his escape, pulling the door shut behind him. She had seemed content to be against him, but there was an edge to her tone, and her actions.

As he pounded along the streets, he didn't try to cover himself in Glamour. Instead, he kept to the shadows and backstreets. The area was mostly small shops that opened exclusively during the day, and there were very few people about.

But it wasn't long before he passed into the central hub of the city and late night shoppers filled the streets. Most of them were young adults, party people who had been out at the pub drinking, or in the clubs, dancing. He saw a pair of girls with matching bubblegum pink hair skip across the road, hand in hand, dodging traffic expertly. A boy with orange eyes slipped out of a store that could only be described as seedy and climbed into a passing cab.

This was Jace's element, the bustle of the night, when demons strolled the streets in hunt of human prey, where the Night Children roamed, and the Warlocks came out to make their mark on the scene. This was what Jace loved, what he lived for, but now it was nothing.

It was cold, and empty, and he didn't want to be there.

Holding out his hand, Jace hailed a cab and slid into the back seat, leaning his head back against the leather, breathing it in.

'Where are you going?' the cabbie asked, and Jace gave him an address a few blocks from the Institute. Traffic was low, and the drive was fast, and they pulled up at the address before Jace had even looked out the window.

'Good luck, son,' the cabbie told him as he handed over a bill, and he raised his eyebrows curiously. What luck did he have? But he shot the man a nod and stepped out of the cab, jogging gently along the street to the old abandoned church that housed the Shadowhunter's New York base.

'Jace!' Isabelle called out as the elevator came to a halt and he stepped out, making his way toward the residential wing. 'Jace!' He ignored her, pushing open the heavy wooden door and heading down the corridor. The whole Institute was silent, the rose shaped witchlights burning dully at regular intervals along the wall.

'Jace! Answer me, asshole.'

He turned around suddenly then, and Isabelle jumped back with a start. 'What?'

'Did Clary get home alright?'

'Yep.'

'How is she? Tired? Anxious?'

'Yep.'

Isabelle's lips curled in an annoyed scowl. 'That's not a very good answer, Jace.'

But he didn't care. He stormed the last few metres to his room and slammed the door in his adopted sister's face.

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><p><strong>Hello to all you lovely people who read this! I hope you enjoyed it! I loved writing it, and Alagorn Black says she loved editing it! I'd love to hear if you had anything to say, questions to ask (though I can't assure that I will answer them). And I hope that you stick in with this story! Hopefully, the next chapter will be up within the week. It's almost written, and then it has to be edited, but it will be posted as soon as it's done! <strong>

**Love you all.**

**xx **

**Wynnie and Alagorn **


	3. 2: Love Is Eternal

**Disclaimer: I don't own Mortal Instruments. I only hope I do it justice.**

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><p><strong>2 - Love Is Eternal<strong>

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><p>There was something about the room that felt off to Alec.<p>

It may have been the thick layer of grime that covered the windows, obscuring the light of the city around them. Or it may have been the intense lack of sound that seemed to hit his ears like a physical barrier. Outside, the city street was bustling and full of life, but here, in the concrete building he had been led to, all was silent.

The room was bare: there were no pictures on the walls, no pieces of furniture except for the tacky plastic chair he now sat on. In his hand was his digital watch, flashing green in the muted darkness. He had been staring at it for so long that the digits had blurred together. He blinked quickly and they separated again. 4:00. It was almost dawn and - he hoped - his wait was almost over.

Resting his elbow on his knee, Alec ran his thumb along the small layer of stubble on his chin. He hadn't been home since the battle at the church. His muscles still ached, but the _iratze _Isabelle had drawn on his shoulder had taken affect and the sharp pains from his injuries were fading.

What wasn't fading was the distinct feeling that his boyfriend wasn't happy with him. _Boyfriend. _It was a weird word, especially when used to describe Magnus. It didn't seem to do him justice. He wasn't a boyfriend, not really. He was a warlock, and insane, and more into fashion than Alec would really like. But he was insatiable. He was uncontrollable and he was one hundred percent sure of who he was and what he wanted.

Except recently. Recently, Alec had the feeling that he was hiding things. Well, more things than usual. He would step through conversation cautiously, which was completely unlike him. He took time to consider things, and Alec was concerned that something had changed. Seriously changed.

And it probably had. They'd made an agreement, the two of them, to drop the issue of the lengths of their lives, but Alec himself had definitely not stopped searching for an answer, and that, in short, was the reason he was here tonight.

An ancient vampire had promised him the secret of immortality in return for her freedom, and as yet, she hadn't held up on her side of the bargain. She she seemed to have disappeared off the face of the Earth, and his only thought as to how to find her was with the other vampires. So here he was, waiting for Raphael, the leader of the Manhattan clan.

'Hello?' he called out, his voice echoing around the room and bouncing back at him, harsh against his ears. 'Hello?'

There was no reply.

He glanced at his watch again. 4:02. Great.

They had to be coming for him soon, he concluded. The windows may be dirty but they weren't shuttered and when the sun rose the room would still light up, even if it was dusty.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the flash of a figure and he stood up quickly. His feet carried him to the window and he glanced out of it but all he could see was the road, dulled by layers of dust.

'Alexander Lightwood?'

Alec twisted his head and saw, standing in the doorway, a girl. She had one hand on her hip, the other resting lightly against the doorframe. Her long, dark hair tumbled down her shoulders in loose curls and the black dress she wore clung tight to her frame. She would be incredibly beautiful; if that was the kind of thing you were into. Her eyes were a dark blue: so dark they were almost black. She looked up at him from beneath long lashes, and Alec coughed slightly, turning himself around so he was facing her directly.

'Are you Alexander Lightwood?' she asked again, stepping into the room. She moved with a grace that spoke of power and agility, an inbuilt strength. Her high heels clacked against the floor and as she came towards him, laying a hand gently on his sleeve, he had the distinct impression she was flirting with him.

'Uh-' he stammered, the words falling from his lips without any kind of control from his brain. 'Uh, yeah. I'm Alec. I'm gay. I have a boyfriend.'

He couldn't tell whether the look she gave him was disappointment or condescension, but she dropped her hand and it fell to her side, brushing the skirt of her dress down when it had ridden up her thigh.

'Why did you come here?' she asked. Her voice was bored in comparison to her previous tone. She stepped backwards onto a scuttling bug and squashed it under her heel.

'I- I'm looking for Camille.'

The girl scowled. 'Camille's not here.'

Alec ran his thumb along his chin again in agitation. 'I didn't really think she would be, but I didn't know where else to start. You're- you're a vampire and she's a vampire.'

'And that seemed to you like a logical leap?' Yes, definitely condescending.

'Yes?' Alec asked, but he could hear the question in his own tone.

'If that was a logical argument,' the girl said, stepping backwards and away from him, towards the door, 'you would have gone to your vampire friend.' She had reached the door, and leaned against it again, much like she had when she first ended. 'And we have as much knowledge as he does. Camille cannot be found. If she wished you to know her whereabouts-' She paused considering him.

And then, with a final shrug of her shoulders, she turned and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

* * *

><p><em>He stood, leaning against the railing of Blackfriars Bridge, a smug expression on his face. He glanced down to the water below, watching it run sluggishly beneath him.<em>

_The skies darkened, a shiver crossed his spine and he watched as the water bubbled like a boiling pot. A smile turned up the corners of his mouth._

_The head of a girl was rising from the depths. Her hair was dark, falling around her shoulders and her eyes were a bright green, but her lips and skin were as white as a sheet. There was no pulse in her throat, no signs of life. But as she rose from the water as if held up by an invisible cord, her head rocked forward to face him and her lips moved in voiceless words. _

You shall never win, _her lips said, but the smile did not fade from his mouth and with a swift movement, he reached out, the blade that had been resting lightly in his hands slicing across her throat._

_He watched as her pale face fell back into the river. _

_There was no blood._

* * *

><p>Jace woke with a start.<p>

Sweat sheened his forehead, his hands were clenched in fists, and his sheets were tossed to the floor. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat up, trying his hardest not to vomit. His stomach was roiling, twisting in upon itself and Jace was glad that it was empty when he retched, nothing rising in his throat.

'Ew. Jace.'

Alec was sitting on the wooden chair beside his bed, hands positioned awkwardly in his lap. He was wearing gear and out of his boot rose a dagger, the jewel encrusted hilt exposed.

Jace rolled his eyes and collapsed back onto his pillow, pushing the memory of the dream to the back of his mind. He would have time to think about it later.

'What is so urgent that you have to wake me up at an ungodly hour, Alec?'

The older boy rolled his eyes. 'What's so disgusting that you have to dry reach upon waking?'

'Bad dreams.' Jace rubbed an arm along his forehead, removing the sweat with the sleeve of his t-shirt. The morning light was shining in through the window, just enough that it pierced his eyes. Colors danced across his vision and he blinked them away.

'What do you want, Alec?' Jace could hear the snippiness in his own tone, but he put it down to tiredness and rolled over so he was leaning up on one elbow to face his stepbrother. 'Speak. Or leave. Did you and Magnus have another fight?'

At his words, Alec's face darkened perceptibly, his eyebrows knitting together and his lips pursing.

'What's wrong?' Jace asked.

Alec looked up, catching Jace's eye and whispered, 'You can't tell Magnus. Or anyone.' He took a deep breath and his fingers clenched into the palms of his hands. 'I need your help.'

Jace nodded, wary of the bitter voice that was - for the moment - silent. 'Anything.'

'I need you to find Camille.'

* * *

><p>'And how the hell am I supposed to do that? Hand out wanted posters? "Have you seen my pet vampire. She has pale skin, sharp teeth and really likes to drink your blood".'<p>

Alec breathed a sigh of relief. He had full well expected the first question to be "why?".

'Any way you can,' he replied, watching Jace carefully as he stood up. His bright blue pajama bottoms made a stark contrast to the dark green of his t-shirt. Alec winced subconsciously.

'Are you seriously asking me to take a suicide mission to find a vampire? A vampire that was underground for years, recently revealed herself and now is back underground because she escaped the Sanctuary?'

Alec gnawed at his lip anxiously. 'Actually, she was taken from the Sanctuary by Lilith's people. And I freed her from the construction site.'

'What?' Jace eyed Alec with a suspicious look.

'It's not what you think,' the dark haired boy said quickly, standing up and laying a hand on Jace's shoulder. The muscles beneath his hand only tensed, as if Jace desperately wanted to pull away.

'Oh, right. What did you do? Cut her restraints because she promised you eternal life or something?'

Alec heard the sarcastic, bitter laughter in Jace's tone, but the words stung and cut home like a knife buried to the hilt. He lifted his hand from Jace's shoulder, stepping away and sitting back down on the chair. He could feel the press of the wood against his back, the kind of thing Jace would find soothing. Alec found it only irritating.

He looked up, watching Jace as he paced the room. He looked anxious and Jace was never anxious. It chilled Alec to watch him.

'She did, didn't she. She told you she knew how to make you immortal.'

'Yes.' His voice broke.

'And you just agreed? Let her go? Immortality's not important, Alec. Being able to die is a good thing. Ask Simon! Ask-' Jace paused, eyes wide, and his own name fell silent from his lips. The muscles in his jaw went slack, and he stopped pacing the room. 'You're doing this for Magnus.'

Alec tried to form a reply, a quick retort or a denial, but his mouth wouldn't move. He couldn't form the words. Instead he whispered, 'Yes,' his eyes glazing over with something resembling guilt.

Jace groaned. 'Are you serious? I thought your crush on me was pretty extreme,' he said, bringing a flush to Alec's cheeks, 'but this is just insane! You want to _make _yourself immortal? You want to tie yourself to this world while everyone around you grows old and dies?'

Alec's eyes darkened as he scowled. 'Not everyone.'

'No,' Jace agreed. 'Not everyone. But relationships aren't forever, and you and Magnus will fall apart, and then what will you do?' His features were dark, his mouth a hard straight line. 'Date Simon?' He had resumed pacing, and was looking at anything but his stepbrothers face.

'Don't you think that you'll love Clary forever?'

Alec watched as he pulled away, all emotions dying out like an exploding sun. 'Clary deserves better than me,' Jace whispered, grabbing a grey jacket from his wardrobe and pulling it on over his pajamas. 'And as soon as she realises that, I'm prepared to deal with the consequences.'

And he stalked out of the room, leaving Alec sitting dumbstruck beside his bed.

* * *

><p>The sun had not yet risen when the alarm on Clary's phone rang, waking her from troubled dreams. Blinking away sleep, she pulled a pair of light trackpants and a hoodie on, brushing her bright hair back into a loose bun. Luke's house was empty: he had her mother were probably still out searching for any information about the whereabouts of Sebastian's body.<p>

Clary pulled the door shut behind her, locking it, and slipped out onto the cold street. The river ran blue at the end of the street but she turned away from it, heading further into the city and towards the subway. At the end of the street was a diner, _Charlize's, _that was renowned for it's cheap coffee and stale pastries, but she wasn't in the mood for anything fancy or healthy.

She had woken at midnight having slept a dreamless sleep, to find that Jace was gone and she was in her bedroom, tucked into the sheets. Tears had stung her eyes, but she willed them to stay unshed and they remained so. But when - after a long time - she had fallen back asleep her dreams were vivid and strong. They spoke of blood and darkness. Angels with their wings cut and bleeding, staining the dark soil, eyes black as night.

Stepping into the warm interior of _Charlize's, _Clary considered her plan. She was making her way to the Institute for what she hoped would be her next training session. She knew it was highly unlikely that Jace would agree to train her, especially when he was still healing from the ordeal at the construction site. She didn't let herself consider that he had left her alone the night before.

Clary's secret weapon was Isabelle.

Isabelle, with her tall slender build and waist-length inky hair, was a skilled warrior and Clary hoped to be her _parabatai_: a pair of fighters who knew each others movements and watched each others backs. A perfect fighting team.

Clary sighed, handing a bill over to the seedy barista who shot her a benevolent glare before moving to the machine to mix her coffee. Tugging her hoodie down lower around her hips, she perused the pastry menu, watching the barista in her peripheral.

His hair was greasy, falling in lanks down his skinny face. On the end of his nose was a bright pink pimple, that made CLary's stomach twist. Placing her cup beneath the percolator, he wiped his sweaty hands on his already dirt stained apron.

Filling the polystyrene cup with milk, he passed it to her and she wrapped a napkin around it. She shot him a wry smile in what she hoped looked like thanks and stepped out onto the street, the idea of buying a danish or scroll for breakfast making her feel sick.

Clary took a sip of the coffee and spat it into the gutter. It tasted like a mix of cement and stale water. Pulling the lid off, she had to admit it didn't look much better.

She walked down the sidewalk, keeping the cup between her hands for warmth. Her converse slapped against the pavement as she dodged the morning commuters and the last of the late night stragglers. The subway entrance drew nearer and nearer and she was almost upon it when she heard a voice, calling her name.

'Clary!' It was Simon, one hand high and waving, the other tucked into his jeans pocket. His leather jacket was open across a black tee that read: THERE ARE NINJAS ON THIS SHIRT. TRY AND SPOT THEM.

She turned so she was facing him and waited as he caught up to her, shooting her a bright smile.

'What are you doing out so early?' he asked her.

'Bad dreams.' She frowned, scuffing the ground with the toe of her shoe. Simon wrapped an arm around her in a half hug.

'That sucks,' he said, voice not darkening. His tone was light and carefree, as if he'd just been told he'd won the lottery. If all had gone well the night before, Clary supposed she couldn't really chide him for his lack of sympathy.

'Guess what!' he said, and her thoughts were confirmed. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet. He didn't wait for her to reply but continued speaking, leading her down into the station. 'My mom knows! She knows! And she's okay about it! No great, but okay!'

She looked up to find him grinning at her. She shot him a tentative smile in return. 'That's great, Simon. But what are _you _doing out so early?'

'Oh,' I don't sleep that great at night. I just toss and turn. So when mom got sick of me pacing the living room, she told me to go for a run so I came to see you.' He released her shoulder, tuning so he was facing her. 'Where are we going anyway?'

'I'm going to the Institute. I need to talk to Isabelle.'

He grinned. 'Good. I need to see her too. I left her at the construction site last night.' His face suddenly fell and in a concerned half whisper he said, 'And I forgot to call. I really should've called, right? She's going to hate me.'

Clary swiped her metro pass and entered the carriage. It smelled of smoke and the faint coppery scent of dried blood. 'She can't have expected you to call,' she said. 'Not when you were having such an important discussion with your mom.'

They settled down in a free booth, opposite each other. Simon's knees bumped against each other with the movement of the car and Clary took another sip of coffee, swallowing it down quickly and coughing.

'Bad coffee?' Simon asked her.

'Very.' She passed the cup to him and he took a sip, grimacing at the horrid flavour.

'That's disgusting,' he said.

'As demonstrated by my coughing fit.' She eyes him carefully as he glanced about the car, watching the straggle of bleary eyed passengers. 'Simon, you do realise you can't come into the Institute, right? It's consecrated ground.'

'About that.' He drummed his slender fingers against the vinyl seat. 'I was hoping you'd send Izzy to open the Sanctuary for me when you'd finished talking.'

Clary shook her head but Simon wasn't watching. He was looking behind her at a young girl, about eight years old whose eyes were bloodshot. She smiled at him with fanged teeth.

'That's just wrong,' he said in hushed tones.

'You're a vampire, Simon,' she pointed out.

'Yes, but I'm not eight.

She resisted the urge to snap at him, _But you're acting like you are._

The car pulled up at their stop and Clary stood up quickly. She and Simon stepped out onto the platform. The little girl was already there, leaning casually against the wall. She was alone, and her stance gave her the appearance of a conceited teenager. She was clearly not a newly reborn vampire.

'Hello, Simon,' she whispered as they passed. Her voice was young, childlike. It raised the hairs on the back of Clary's neck. Turning back to watch the girl as they left the station, Clary saw her wave. Her fingernails were painted bright pink.

When they stepped out into the fresh air, the sun had fully risen and Clary blinked to clear her vision of the blinding light.

'That was creepy,' Simon breathed.

'I'm not arguing with you.'

The Institute was two blocks away from the subway station. The dilapidated, run down church that was its cover was mostly rubble and unable to be seen over the roofs of other buildings, but as Clary removed the Glamour, layer by layer, the tall spires and her favourite part of the Institute - the greenhouse - came into focus.

Clary loved the greenhouse, with its exotic and rare herbs and plants that she had never seen anywhere else in New York. They were native to Idris.

But even if Clary hated plants and flowers, she would still love the greenhouse. It was there she had kissed Jace for the first time, on her birthday. She couldn't remember a more perfect day.

Nearing the building, Simon slowed, looking up at the Institute with a look that mixed awe, curiosity and fear. Clary climbed the steps and placed her hand on the door. It opened at her touch.

'Uh,' Simon said awkwardly. 'I guess I'll just… head round to the Sanctuary entrance.' He bit his lip and ducked his head, stepping away from her. Clary felt sorry for him. She didn't mean to be so standoffish, but she'd woken up with Jace gone, and all she wanted to do was find Isabelle and throw herself into her training, using the adrenalin to burn away the anger.

She slipped into the elevator, looking behind her at Simon's retreating back. The confidence in his step that had been there all morning had faded and now he walked with his shoulders slouching and his feet dragging on the pavement.

Clary bit her lip. She wished she could just hug Simon and tell him she wasn't angry at him, but there was nothing she could do. She had to see Isabelle.

She pressed the button on the elevator and it rose upward, clanking as it moved. Each second she was in there felt like she was being contained, pushed down. Clary had never been very claustrophobic before, but she felt it now. The gilded frames brought back memories if darkness and dreariness, and the visions of her dream rose bright and fresh in her mind.

A blond angel stood over her, wings of white and gold spreading behind his back. He resembled Jace except his hair was cut, the golden aura that always surrounded him gone. And his eyes. His eyes were dead and black.

The doorway of the elevator shuddered open and cool air rushed in. It was only with the breeze that Clary realised she was hyperventilating. She took a deep breath, counting back from one hundred to calm herself down, and stepped out into the entrance hall.

The room was deserted and she stepped through it with purpose and out into the corridor that led to the residential wing, pushing the visions from her mind. There were very few windows - these corridors led off in all directions onto hundreds of rooms in which visiting Shadowhunters could sleep and rest. The only light came from a large floor-to-ceiling bay window that looked out onto the busy street.

Isabelle's room was on the right. Clary knocked on the door, crossing her feet nervously. She could hear movement and the door suddenly opened on Isabelle, hands on hips.

'I just woke up,' she groaned, but she was wearing a pair of grey stretch jeans and high boots with a red jeweled top. Her pajamas lay on the floor behind her.

'No, you didn't,' Clary pointed out. 'Isabelle, I-'

Isabelle held up a hand. 'No, Clary. Forget it. I'm not interested. I just want to go to the training room and work out.'

Clary refrained from saying, _In that? _Instead, she said, 'I do too. I need you to train me.'

'I thought Jace was training you,' Isabelle said. She stepped back, letting Clary enter. She had recently repainted. One wall was green, the colour of watermelon. The rest were all a constant black. The roof looked like she had attacked it with a spray can in the same green colour. It was all very _Isabelle._

'Jace _was _training me,' Clary said. 'But I have a feeling he's not happy with me right now, so I thought it might be better if maybe you would-'

'No! Most definitely not.'

'Why?'

'I am not undermining Jace like that. He wanted to be the one to train you. He was the one fighting for mom not to hire anyone else.' She grabbed a bottle of water from her bedside table and shooed Clary out of the room, locking the door behind them. 'I'm not going to be the one who takes that away from him.'

Clary felt like sticking out her bottom lip and pouting, but instead she kept pace with Isabelle, biting the side of her cheek. 'Please?'

'I'm serious, Clary,' Isabelle said. 'No.' And she reached the end of the corridor, turning one way towards the weapon and training rooms while Clary turned towards the exit.

'Was there anything else you wanted?' Isabelle asked, not unkindly.

'No.' Clary was almost at the door when she turned. 'But Simon's outside the Sanctuary and he wanted to see you.'

Isabelle didn't turn to face Clary. She only skipped a step, stopping, and changed direction down towards the lower ends of the Institute, to the Sanctuary.

Clary gnawed at her lip and tried desperately not to feel angry at Isabelle.

* * *

><p>The outside door of the Sanctuary was closed, shut tight. Simon knew he should have guessed it would be - having stray vampires entering the Institute was probably not a great thing. But somehow, he'd still imagined himself reaching the doors and finding Isabelle grinning at him.<p>

But he wasn't. Instead, he found himself sitting on the steps, playing with his nails and waiting - hoping - for Izzy to come down and see him. The stonework beneath him gleaned in the sunlight, cool in direct contrast to the warm sun that beat down on his skin.

'Simon?' His name was spoken as a whisper and he saw Isabelle, dark hair twisted into a long braid. He shot her a smile as relief flooded through him and stood up, moving towards her. She held the door open for him and he entered the cool rooms of Sanctuary.

'Clary said you'd be down here,' she said, watching him as he leaned against a stone pillar.

'I wanted to tell you the good news.' He turned to face her, watching the fluid way she moved as she stepped towards.

'You could have called.'

'I should have called,' he said. 'Last night. But I was all caught up with talking to my mom, and by the time I thought of calling to let you know I was alright and to check that you had gotten home okay, I was on the subway on the way here. And my cell service on the subway isn't that crash hot.'

Isabelle shot him a wry smile. 'Your mom listened? You sorted it out?'

'Yeah,' Simon sighed. It was a wistful sort of sigh, filled with happiness and contentment. He slid down the pillar until he was sitting, motioning for Isabelle to join him. She was graceful as she crossed her legs and sat down opposite him. His hands were resting in his lap and she took them, running her long delicate fingers along the lines of his palm.

'Was it nice?' she asked, 'having your mom accept you?'

He nodded. 'It was amazing. I've missed her, since we came back from Idris.'

She smiled, leaning closer to him to move the lock of hair that covered the rune on his forehead. Her hands were warm and where she touched him tingled. Simon felt alive: he could see every curve of her skin, every hair, every eyelash. Slowly, she moved closer and their foreheads touched. In a laboured breath she whispered, 'I think I'm starting to fall in love with you, Simon Lewis.'

And her lips were suddenly against his, warm and soft. There was the slightest tang of cherry lip gloss, and something more, something alive. He could feel the blood pulsing in her veins, through her lips, and though his stomach growled he had no intention of harming her.

His hands slid across her back, pulling her even closer, pressing their bodies together. The jewels of her top pressed against his chest and her hands curled around his neck, thumbs brushing his cheek. He could feel the sigh that ran through her body as her lips parted against his and her tongue darted out to brush his lip. It felt like sparks, like fireworks.

With a breathy laugh, Simon pulled away, breaking the contact between their lips. 'I think I'm falling in love with you too, Isabelle Lightwood.'

She grinned, resting back on her heels. Her eyes swept across him, from the leather jacket to the dark jeans and converse that he had pulled on that morning.

'I like this jacket,' she said and stood up, holding out a hand to lift him. He didn't take it, instead standing up on his own. Her hands jumped to the collar, tugging at it lightly. 'It's nice,' she said.

'I hope it is. You picked it out for me, remember?'

She nodded, sliding her hands up his shoulders and round his neck. 'Though I'm pretty sure ninjas are not my idea of a good joke.'

He glanced down at his shirt, blushing, and shrugged. 'You can choose my shoes and my jackets, but I'm choosing my tees, okay?'

'Fine,' she sighed in false exasperation and pressed her lips to his again, smiling against his mouth.

* * *

><p>For Alec, the day had passed quickly, though he had spent it in relative silence and solitude. The sun had risen, bright and shining through his window, and then it had fallen to the reddish bronze glow that it was now.<p>

Alec stared at his ceiling, a small smile playing across his face. There was a spot of glitter there, like someone had thrown a gel pen and it defied the law of gravity, breaking against the paint and spilling its ink. He could remember when it happened, when Magnus had sat on his bed, absently throwing glitter at the ceiling while he talked. He had called it _dabbling in interior decoration. _Alec had called it a failure.

But it did, for all it was worth, make him smile, and it was something he didn't think he could ever forget, for all eternity.

'Alec.' The voice was soft and quiet and it seemed out of place coming from that mouth. He turned his head to watch Jace. He was standing in the doorway, hands clenched at his sides. It was classic worried Jace: lips pushed together in a tight line, eyes straight ahead and staring, limbs hard at his side like he was permanently stiff. Something was clearly wrong.

'What is it?' he asked.

'Something's happened,' Jace replied. 'And I know you asked for my help with Camille, but I need your help right now. I need you to get Magnus to help us. Because if I ask him, he won't do it. He won't do anything for me. It's you he loves.' His words were hurried, urgent, and he took a quick step further into the room.

'Jace? What's happened?'

His voice was strained as he answered. 'Can you- can you just make the call?'

Alec didn't reach for his phone. He didn't dial the number that he knew by heart, and was sure he could never remove from his memory.

Instead, he stood up, grabbing Jace by the jacket and leading him from the room. 'Come on.'

* * *

><p>The book lay in his lap, closed. The runes on its cover stared at him, piercing him. Magnus often brought out the book, lifted it down from the high shelf on which he stored it and just sat staring at it. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was almost scared to open it and uncover the secrets it contained. Magic like this was too strong, too powerful.<p>

With a sigh, he flipped it over to it's back cover, running his slender fingers along the engraved leather. He could feel the energy radiating off it, coming in waves that washed over him, making the blood in his veins pulse faster.

Magnus ran a hand through his hair, messing the perfectly designed spikes. Glitter fell from his hand and onto the book and he watched as it fizzled and dissolved into thin air.

Taking a deep breath, he gripped the book in both hands and placed it back on the shelf. What use was it, pining over something he had no idea how to achieve? The tools were right in front of him, at his service, but the actions required were too… incomprehensible. Even when it was all for love.

Even when it was all for _him._

* * *

><p>The knock at his door was quiet, almost silent. Magnus breathed a heavy sigh and stood up. The tiny cat at his feet skittered across the floor and out of his way and he crossed the room to answer it.<p>

'What?' he groaned as he opened it. 'If you're wanting to sell me something, I'm not in the mood.'

It was Alec, arms folded across his chest. His hands were balled into fists and his bright blue eyes were alight with urgency. Behind him, stood Jace, golden curls falling lightly over his dark face. Magnus sometimes wondered why the boy with all the classic good looks and confidence did nothing for him, and the quiet boy who would never stand out in a crowd meant the world.

'What is it?' he asked.

It was Jace that answered. 'Clary. She's gone.'

He felt like asking, _Why should I help you? _But Alec's eyes were anxious too, and he only shifted to the side, opening the doorway for them to pass. 'I guess you better come in.'

* * *

><p><strong>Hi all! Thank you for coming back to read this, or picking it out to read, or any of those things! You are amazing, just for clicking on this story and taking the time out to read it :D I hope you enjoyed what we came up with so far! And for all of those out there, who wanted more Magnus and Alec, this is for you, a little bit of niceness. However, I will tell you that there will be much more Alec and Magnus in the future. There part is nowhere near inconsequential. Also, thank you to Hellewise14 for leaving such lovely reviews! They made our day! And everyone else who took the time out to send us a message with your opinions! I was grinning for hours! <strong>

**Also, again, I have to thank Alagorn for marvelously editing this, especially when my first draft was utter nonsense. We made it eventually :D. **

**And once again, I hope you all enjoyed this! The next chapter shall be up as soon as its been written... and edited a million times :D. Hopefully it won't be too long!**

**Love you all!**

**xx Wynnie and Alagorn **


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